


카페 보이프렌드 (Cafe Boyfriend)

by thatgoodgood (reloadeds)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Food Kink, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7354819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reloadeds/pseuds/thatgoodgood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yifan isn’t a huge fan of sugar. Zhang Yixing gave him a sweet tooth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	카페 보이프렌드 (Cafe Boyfriend)

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted as a part of playboys0408 round 1!
> 
> about halfway through writing this I realized this was supposed to be pwp. bc you know. it was kinda for a kink fest. I don't really know what happened.
> 
> special thanks to burnt taost for beta'ing this monstrosity for me. glad your eyes didn't spontaneously catch on fire.

 

 

 

 

 

Yifan’s mother had taught him that good things come in pairs. Such is the case for things like apples, friends, jumper cables, boobs, and pretty much anything else under the sun. Such is not the case, however, for resignation letters, much like the pair that Baekhyun had dumped onto Yifan’s desk when he had strolled in thirty seconds earlier.

 

Yifan furrows his eyebrows before meeting Baekhyun’s skittish gaze.

 

“Um, Baekhyun, what’s-”

 

“Minseok’s flight was this morning. He really wanted to give it to you in person, but he kinda forgot this past week, what with all the packing he had to do and stuff…” Baekhyun coughs. “Um, anyways, he sends his love and best wishes. He thinks the place’ll hold up just fine. He said he’ll be sure to write and send over some of those coffee beans you like. If, you know, that’s all sound and legal over there.”

 

Yifan merely blinks at him and pales once the realization seeps back into his memory. _Oh right_ , he recollects. Minseok had told him about some extended charity trip for culinary professionals that he’d been invited to go on. He would be stationed in South America, providing food for those living in impoverished communities. This, however, also meant that Yifan’s cafe would be in need of a new pâtissier for the next two years.

 

_Damn Minseok and his angelic soul._

 

Yifan sighs and raises an eyebrow at the second envelope before him.

 

“And who else quit?”

 

Baekhyun folds his hands in front of him and twiddles his thumbs. “...Tao.”

 

“ _Tao?_ ” Yifan spits incredulously. “Why _Tao_?!”

 

“...He said something about you holding out on our quarterly bonuses, and how he, as a law-abiding, tax-paying citizen, refuses to withstand this injustice any longer.”

 

Yifan massages his temples.

 

“But he _knows_ we’ve been strapped for cash lately.”

 

Baekhyun tongues his cheek. “That was kind of his point. His last words were that the walls smell like burnt custard and failure.”

 

Yifan opens his mouth to protest, but upon catching sight of the sorry stack of profit reports resting in the corner of his desk, opts for banging his head down onto his desk and releasing a groan.

 

“...So, we’re down a pastry chef and a barista.”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

The throbbing in Yifan’s temples intensifies.

 

“And that leaves us with…?”

 

“...In terms of staffing? ...You and me.”

 

Yifan nearly gets whiplash from how sharply his head snaps up.

 

“You’re kidding me,” he coughs out.

 

“I honestly wish I was,” Baekhyun offers apologetically.

 

Feeling his blood simmer, Yifan manages to push himself up and drag himself out of his office, passing Baekhyun without another word. He trudges down the hallway, rounding the corner and ambling down the staircase that leads to the cafe itself.

 

Despite having opened four hours ago, the main floor of the coffeehouse is completely vacant. The tables remain as spotless as they had been when Baekhyun had wiped them before leaving last night, and all of the chairs are properly pushed in from when he had taken them down this morning. The last batch of pastries Minseok had baked before heading off to the airport remain untouched behind the glass of the bakery display. Devoid of bodies and chattering, the air is gelid, and the smooth jazz mix crooning softly in the background works to remind Yifan of just how _empty_ the place really is.

 

Running one hand through his hair, Yifan tightens his grip around the railing as he feels his legs weaken. He glances over to where _Myeonie’s Mixes_ lies opposite to _Kape Kafei_ , the small-time juice bar somehow having managed to steal most of Yifan’s already-wavering clientele in the few months it’s been in operation. At a loss of customers, employees, and words, Yifan silently lowers himself to sit on the last step of the staircase. He buries his face his palms and tries to regulate his breathing.

 

Baekhyun quietly approaches from behind and lays a soothing hand on Yifan’s shoulder.

 

“Do you want some coffee? We have a full pot from this morning. Tao made it as a parting gift.”

 

“...Sure.”

 

“Half a pack of sugar and one pump of foam?”

 

“Yeah. And maybe sprinkle in some arsenic while you’re at it, too.”

 

“Premium quality?”

 

“You know me so well, Baek.”

 

\-----

 

It is times like this that Yifan wishes that Luhan hadn’t been stupid enough to bet Baekhyun over giving up his Playstation for six months, because it’s game night, and to be quite honest, Yifan thinks he could really do with shooting a few people’s heads off, whether virtually or literally.

 

It isn’t like Baekhyun hadn’t already lost his half of the bet (and it isn’t like Yifan could blame him either; one simply couldn’t stop at just _one_ of Minseok’s cherry-filled vanilla tarts), but Baekhyun had also threatened to burn all of Yifan’s toiletries in the pastry oven if he even _thought_ about ratting him out, which is why Yifan presently finds himself twiddling a plastic dart in between his fingers and occasionally using the tip to stir the edge of his beer.

 

Baekhyun and Luhan are a few feet away from him, yelling at each other animatedly as they debate over whose dart had actually stuck to the board. (The answer was neither of theirs, and Yifan actually couldn’t believe how bad his friends were at games that didn’t involve beating each other up for points and powerups.) Eventually, it came Luhan’s turn to throw, and he squares up his feet with his tongue stuck out in concentration.

 

“So, Tao texted me today after he quit,” Luhan begins casually, closing one eye as he draws back. He flings the dart forward, but it flips over in mid-air and bounces sideways off of the drywall. Off to the side, Baekhyun whoops in delight and claps his hands.

 

“Is that so?” Yifan grunts from where he’s situated at the kitchen island. The dart slips from his fingers and into his drink, and at that point he gives up on trying to salvage his mood for the night.

 

“Yeah. He says he’s real sorry for everything,” Luhan replies as he returns from his walk of shame to retrieve his plastic dart. Scoffing, Yifan picks his own dart out of his drink and tosses it into the sink.

 

Luhan sighs and reaches for his own glass. “He told me to tell you there’s no hard feelings. He understands what the cafe’s going through, he just can’t bear to hang on as it goes under.”

 

Yifan rubs his forehead with the back of his hand before kicking back the rest of his drink in one take. He pushes the empty glass across the granite counter, where Baekhyun smoothly grabs it on his way to the cabinet for a refill.

 

“I didn’t think you guys were actually doing that badly,” Luhan admits, tipping back his own glass.

 

“The last customer we had was last Tuesday, and he only came in because the McDonald’s down the street was having a power outage.” Baekhyun uncaps the bottle of beer with his thumb. “And there’s also an entire one of Minseok’s poundcakes that’s been in the display glass for _five whole days_. It’s just sitting there, cold and unloved, waiting for someone to rescue it from its misery...”

 

Yifan can almost hear the drool dripping out of Baekhyun’s mouth and has to restrain himself from snickering at the slight tremor in Baekhyun’s hands when the latter shuffles back with the refilled glasses.

 

“Down, boy. You still have another five months to go,” Luhan chides.

 

“It could be less if you’d just give it up already.”

 

“Fat chance, Baek.”

 

“Uh-huh, yeah, because I’m _sure_ this riveting game of nipple-chase must be _arousing_ to you somehow-”

 

“Oh my god, the game is called _steeple_ chase, Baekhyun. What type of STD-infested websites have you been visiting lately?!”

 

And so Baekhyun and Luhan enter a heated round of banter, and somewhere in the middle of it Yifan puts his head down onto the counter in an attempt to evaporate so he wouldn't have to suffer through his two _loudest_ friends chewing each other out half-drunk. Baekhyun eventually concedes and leaves to refill his and Luhan’s glasses as Luhan chuckles proudly.

 

Yifan crooks his head up to look at Luhan thoughtfully, pillowing his cheek in the crook of his elbow. He says nothing.

 

“Can you stop staring at me like that?” Luhan grumbles. “You’re hardly my type.”

 

Yifan wrinkles his nose in disgust (he isn’t sure what he should take more offense at: Luhan thinking Yifan would ever want to date him or Yifan not being somebody’s type) before puffing out his cheeks.

 

“How does he do it?” Yifan ponders.

 

“How does who do what?”

 

“Junmyeon.”

 

The end of his question is directed straight at Luhan, who is, ironically, a current employee of _Myeonie’s Mixes_. Originally, Yifan wasn’t thrilled at the idea of his best friend working for _the enemy_ , but yielded after learning that Junmyeon was an old family friend of Luhan’s, so it was impossible for Luhan to refuse when approached with a job offer.

 

Luhan nods, contemplating in silence for a few moments.

 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Junmyeon just knows how to make people feel at home, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, the place is all colorful and stuff, very youth-friendly. Mood lighting, lounge chairs, free wifi, K-Pop videos playing on the monitors. Junmyeon even comes down to greet customers personally a few times a day…it’s a very welcoming atmosphere. It hooks people in from the moment they first step through the door. Once you’re inside, you never wanna leave.”

 

Yifan listens to all of this and presses his lips together into a thin line.

 

“Is _Kape Kafei_ not welcoming?”

 

“...Well…”

 

_“Well?”_

 

Baekhyun announces his return to the conversation by slamming both of glasses down onto the counter harshly.

 

“It means _Kape Kafei_ is about as lively as your sex life, Yifan.”

 

Grimacing, Yifan huffs indignantly. Baekhyun crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.

 

“It's _pretentious_ , Yifan. Your cafe is _pretentious_. Even its name is pretentious.”

 

“What's wrong with the name?”

 

“Half of it is in Chinese and 99.9% of your clientele is Korean.”

 

“So?”

 

“How do you expect them to want to go inside if they can't even read the damn sign, Yifan?”

 

An image of the logo board reading “카페 咖啡” hanging above the door to the cafe flashes across Yifan’s mind, and he ends up pursing his lips in defeat.

 

“...I was trying to be _global_.”

 

“...Okay, but need we remind you that the name of your cafe is literally just _“Cafe Coffee”_ -”

 

Yifan kicks Luhan in the shin from where he’s seated.

 

“You guys don't even know what pretentious means, okay? _Kape Kafei_ is _not_ pretentious-”

 

“You have _smooth jazz_ playing in your cafe, Yifan.”

 

“That doesn't make it-”

 

_“Smooth. Jazz.”_

 

Yifan stammers and stutters, trying to find a way to defend himself, but ultimately comes to the realization that his friends _do_ have a point. He slumps over in his chair, pouting in defeat. Luhan places a hand on Yifan’s shoulder and gives it a sympathetic squeeze.

 

“What do I do?” Yifan laments pathetically.

 

A brief silence ensues, but then Baekhyun claps his hands together, prompting the other two to look up at him.

 

(The expression on his face is maniacal, and Yifan vaguely wonders if the sugar deprivation has done a number on his sanity.)

 

“What _Kape Kafei_ needs is a makeover.”

 

Yifan and Luhan share the same puzzled look.

 

“A makeover?”

 

Baekhyun nods, grinning. “Yes. It needs a restart. A clearing of its useless baggage and a comeback with a fresh, exciting concept. A rebooting of the system. A….a…a RELOADING!”

 

Luhan wrinkles his nose. “That’s a stupid way of putting it, Baek, but I’d have to agree with you.”

 

Yifan whips his head to gape at Luhan. “You do?”

 

“Well, yeah. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt at this point, would it?”

 

“But what could I do with _Kape Kafei_?”

 

“We would start with basic things. Repainting the walls, getting new tables that aren’t chipped, replacing the Kenny G with some GG…” Baekhyun taps on his chin with his finger. “But what you really need is a theme.”

 

“A theme?”

 

“Yeah. Something that will make your cafe stand out from other cafes on the block. A pull. A main attraction. Like those dog cafes or those Hello Kitty cafes”.

 

Yifan nods, skeptical but intrigued.

 

“Okay, but what would my theme be? It would have to be something that everyone likes.” Yifan furrows his eyebrows. “What are things that people like?”

 

“Dessert!”

 

“Bunnies!”

 

“Lee Jong Suk’s abs!”

 

“Baekhyun, only _you_ like Lee Jong Suk’s abs-”

 

“- _Wait_ , that’s it!”

 

Everyone turns to look at Baekhyun like he’s grown a second head.

 

“...What’s it?” Yifan asks hesitantly.

 

“Hot guys.”

 

“Hot...guys?”

 

Baekhyun nods excitedly, rubbing his palms together.

 

“ _Think about it._ What if we got a bunch of super hot guys to work at the cafe? Girls and boys from across town would come pouring in for a piece of the action.” Baekhyun eyes seem to be sparkling as he speaks, and Luhan and Yifan find themselves oddly interested. (And fearful.)

 

“He has a point,” Luhan contests. “The only thing that could possibly be more delicious than a slice of Minseok’s three-tier cheesecake being served on a silver platter is if there’s a smoking hot piece of eye candy _holding_ that platter.”

 

Baekhyun coos, twirling around in a circle as he makes his way around the kitchen island.

 

“We’d be wiping their drool off of the _floors_ , Yifan. And the best part is - they’d be _paying_ us to do it. We’d have all of our clientele back in no time, _and_ new regulars to boot.”

 

Yifan thinks over all of this for a few seconds. He chews on his lip, reminding himself of how he didn't even need to count up the bills in the register or check if the coffeemaker had been turned off before locking up earlier that night, seeing as they both had been left as undisturbed as they had been for a week straight.

 

He sighs in resignation.

 

“Alright.”

 

“Alright?!”

 

“...Yes, I'm agreeing to your crazy idea, but if anything goes wrong, I will stick both of your asses in the-”

 

Baekhyun cuts Yifan’s threat off with a high pitched squeal, and even Luhan jumps up and joins in on his fit of excitement. Yifan just tightens his grip around his glass, feeling his temples throb again.

 

“We need a name!”

 

“A name?”

 

“Yes, a name! For our new cafe!”

 

“... _Our_? It's _my_ name on the lease, guys-”

 

“How about Cafe Boyfriend?”

 

“...Cafe _Boyfriend_? Are you two fucking serious?”

 

“Oh my god, I _love_ it! We need to get started _immediately_!”

 

Luhan and Baekhyun interlace both of their hands together, giggling like teenage schoolgirls before running off into Yifan’s living room to start planning out _Cafe Boyfriend_.

 

Yifan just pours himself another drink and washes down all of his suppressed regrets for the second time that night.

 

\-----

 

Immediately turns out to be the next morning, and Luhan and Baekhyun spend the next few days swapping out all of Yifan’s wooden tables and chairs for IKEA plastic, stringing up fairy lights from the ceiling, and replacing Yifan’s 50-hour-long _The Soul of Ambient Jazz_ medley with Baekhyun’s entire personal collection of girl group albums. To account for all of this, there was an army of movers and workers flitting in and out of _Kape Kafei‘s_ \- no, _Cafe Boyfriend’s_ \- doors, and at some point, Yifan realizes he’s better off not questioning when and how Luhan gained access to all of his resources. (A better question, though, would have been as to why Junmyeon allowed Luhan so much time off to help Yifan with all of this.) (Maybe he is a better boss than Yifan.) (The mere thought makes Yifan shudder.)

 

It is on the third day of renovations that Yifan begins the hiring process. Baekhyun was kind enough to put up a help-wanted ad, but Yifan thinks that his notice should have asked for _slightly_ more than “a nice smile” and “looks good in white”, because he’s rendered speechless at the three men standing before him.

 

There was Oh Sehun, who possesses a sharp jawline and natural tsundere that is likely to bode well with customers, but the fact that he had forgotten his last name when prompted indicated little chance of Oh Sehun boding well with Yifan.

 

There was also Kim Jongin, the full embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome, sexy smirk and flirtatious aura in tow. Kim Jongin is also the one who, when asked about his prior cooking experience, responded with “burnin’ up the bedroom. And, on occasion, poptarts.” (He made sure to emphasize that he makes a _mean_ strawberry poptart.)

 

And lastly, there was Park Chanyeol, a dashing young man who sort of reminded Yifan of a baby giraffe that had consumed a ten-pound bag of sugar before coming here. He’s quite tall (or more accurately, quite _long_ ), large-eared, and far too smiley. He’s surely the most talkative out of the three, as he’s currently explaining to Yifan how _good_ he is with his hands.

 

(Yifan honestly has trouble believing that, seeing that the man is standing before him wearing velcro shoes. _Velcro_.)

 

(He suddenly pities all of Park Chanyeol’s past romantic partners.)

 

Yifan stares at them in utter disbelief, the smell of drying lime-green paint wafting up his nostrils and irritating his sanity. He flashes them a half-hearted smile before turning to confer with his fellow business consultants.

 

Yifan finds Baekhyun and Luhan with their heads rested in their palms, swooning and sighing with glittery pink hearts swirling in their pupils.

 

“Hire them,” Luhan says, fluttering his long eyelashes at the brooding one with the jawline. Yifan nearly vomits.

 

“But none of them can _cook_ , guys. One of them probably can’t even tie his own shoes.”

 

“Does it matter?” Baekhyun counters. “They’re cute and they’ll attract customers. We can teach them everything else.”

 

Yifan wants to object, but when he sees the deep gaze of longing that Baekhyun is shooting Velcro Boy, deems the effort futile and retreats to his office to pull out three employment waivers.

 

When he returns, a small man with raven black hair has strolled in through the front door, seemingly unfazed by the yellow construction tape crisscrossing the outside of the building. Nestled under one of his arms is a large brown box, and in his free hand is one of _Myeonie’s Mixes_ signature white styrofoam cups.

 

Yifan rolls his eyes.

 

“So nice of you to grace us with your presence on this fine morning, Kyungsoo.”

 

Kyungsoo, Yifan’s across-the-hall neighbor, says nothing, instead slurping shamelessly from his striped purple straw. Yifan feels his blood pressure rise.

 

“Why are you even here? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of construction work?”

 

Kyungsoo huffs and shuffles over to where Yifan is. “I came here because the mailman woke me up this morning when he came knocking on my door with one of _your_ packages.”

 

“And you were kind enough to hand-deliver it to me? Aw, Kyungsoo, I’m touched.”

 

“Don’t think this is some sort of favor. I’m only doing this because I would _never_ want to be caught dead with an entire box of these things.” He shudders. “I don’t know what type of twinkshow you’re running here, Wu Yifan, but I have to admit, your flamboyant gayness has really outdone itself this time.”

 

Yifan cracks his head around and stares the brown package worriedly before yanking it out of Kyungsoo’s grasp and bringing the white label up to his eyes.

 

He briefly wonders if he’s about to enter a hypertensive crisis with how much his blood pressure skyrockets.

 

_“BAEKHYUN.”_

 

Baekhyun scurries over to where Yifan and Kyungsoo stand in the middle of the cafe.

 

“Yeah, boss?”

 

“...Did you order a bunch of plaid sweater vests and velvet green bowties?”

 

Baekhyun doesn’t respond, instead choosing to squeal and clap his hands together.

 

“Ooh, I didn’t think they’d come this early!” He takes the box out of Yifan’s hands and begins to unfold the flaps excitedly. Yifan’s eye twitches.

 

“...Why couldn’t you send these to your own address, Baekhyun?”

 

“Oh please, do you think I’m one to flaunt my raging homosexuality in everything I do, Yifan?”

 

_“...Yes?!”_

 

Baekhyun ignores him and pulls out a red-and-grey knitted sweater vest from the box, holding a green bowtie above it. “Oh, these are going to look _perfect_ on the new employees!”

 

Yifan cringes. He _definitely_ thinks the sugar deprivation is doing a number on Baekhyun’s sanity and good judgement.

 

Baekhyun turns to Kyungsoo, million-dollar smile adorning his face.

 

“Kyungsoo! Wouldn’t these outfits look amazing on the new servers we just hired?”

 

Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose at the suggestion, turning his attention to glance over the men in question. (His scowl, however, seems to soften when his eyes land on Jongin. But Yifan could just be imagining things.)

 

(Yifan really _hopes_ he’s imagining things.)

 

Finding it hard to believe that his morning could be any more joyous than it is at the given moment, Yifan makes a valiant attempt to withdraw into his office, when a man taller and broodier than all of the Oh Sehuns in the world decides to barge into the cafe as well.

 

“How come no one told me we were hiring here?!” Tao barks, designer loafers squeaking against the tiles, with a _Myeonie's Mixes_ cup gripped in his hand. Yifan exhales through his teeth.

 

“You quit two days ago, Tao.”

 

Tao scoffs, adjusting his man purse over his right shoulder and squaring his stance.

 

“Yeah, well, that was _before_ you changed your employee credentials to “ _just be smoking hot_ ”. I'm offended I didn't get an invite, Yifan. I mean, have you _seen_ me?”

 

“Yes, unfortunately,” Luhan deadpans from behind the front counter. Tao almost snarls at him.

 

Baekhyun snorts from where he’s seated on one of the barstools. “And what makes you think you're even hot enough to work here, Tao?”

 

Tao glares at him before sauntering over to where Jongin is standing, slamming his cup on a nearby table. He runs a hand through his hair a few times.

 

“Excuse me, handsome stranger. Pardon my French but, I’m hot, right?”

 

Jongin, with his eyes attentively trained on Kyungsoo’s backside, stutters out a helpful _“Yeah, yeah, of course, real pretty.”_

 

When a (blushing red) Kyungsoo sends a curious glance Jongin’s way, he lets out an attractive yelp with an involuntary arm spasm that sends the contents of Tao’s white styrofoam cup flying all over the floor.

 

Courtesy of Tao’s French, a violent mix of Mandarin and Korean cursing fills the cafe walls, and Yifan simply instructs Baekhyun to tell Tao _he’s hired, again_ before retreating to his office and slamming the door shut.

 

\-----

 

 _Cafe Boyfriend_ hires three more walk-ins that day. Lee Taemin and Choi Minho are about as hopeful as the earlier three (four?), but luckily, Kim Jongdae has at least _some_ experience operating a coffee machine in addition to his cat-like appeal.

 

Yifan, though, oversees none of these new hires, choosing to meditate in his office rather than having to deal with any more humans beings before noon. Tao takes the wheel in showing the rookies the ropes, and Kyungsoo eventually leaves too, but forgets to take his drink with him. Which is how Baekhyun and Luhan find themselves leaned over the service counter, taking turns sipping from Kyungsoo’s abandoned cup.

 

“You know, Yifan would kill me if he saw me with one of these,” Baekhyun muses, wrapping his lips around the striped purple straw.

 

Luhan shrugs his shoulders. “He hasn't killed _me_ yet.”

 

“Yeah, but that's different. We already lost you to the war a long time ago.”

 

“You make it sound like I'm dead, Baekhyun.”

 

“...You’ve _been_ dead to me ever since you dropped my _The Boys_ album in the bathtub.”

 

“This again, Baek, really!?”

 

“Why was it even _in_ the bathtub with you, Luhan?”

 

“I told you! The lighting in my bathroom is better!”

 

“But why did you _need_ good lighting to _listen_ -”

 

The sound of the front door banging shut interrupts them, and the next thing Baekhyun and Luhan know, a scattered young man has appeared before the counter. He has a small frame, dressed in a grey oversized jumper that hangs off his shoulders and a pair of blue jeans ripped at the knees, overgrown chestnut brown hair falling into his eyes as he shoves his tangled earphones into his pockets.

 

Baekhyun and Luhan gape at him.

 

“He’s...kinda cute? I guess?” Luhan reasons, unbelieving of his own words. Baekhyun just gulps.

 

“Oh god, you don't think he’s here about the job opening, is he?” he whispers to Luhan in a panic. “Should we tell him we’re full?”

 

“Don't you think that's a little rude?”

 

“...His whole _outfit_ is rude, Luhan.”

 

Luhan concedes, pursing his lips and facing forward. Baekhyun shoots him a look before clearing his throat loudly. The stranger looks up and meets both of their gazes.

 

Baekhyun smiles apologetically.

 

“Excuse me for asking, sir, but...are you lost?”

 

The young man blinks at them a few times. “Um, I don't think I am?” he answers calmly. His voice is soft, curious but unobtrusive. Baekhyun allows himself to relax his shoulders.

 

“Well, we don't open for another week or so...we’re undergoing some major renovations-”

 

“Oh I know, I know. That’s why I'm here. I'm here for the job opening.”

 

Baekhyun and Luhan exchange a look of mutual panic. Luhan, giving the stranger a subtle once over, clears his throat before putting on a polite smile.

 

“We’re sorry, but the qualifications for our server-slash-host position require that the employee be, uh, _physically attractive_ , and um,” Luhan gulps. “Unfortunately, uh, you seem to-”

 

The stranger begins to laugh then, effectively cutting off Luhan. His laugh is surprisingly endearing, forcing Luhan and Baekhyun to chalk up two more points to this guy in their book despite his low starting score.

 

Using his pinky to wipe tears out of the corners of his eyes, the man continues with an amused smile. “Oh no, no, no, I'm not here for _that_ position. I'm here for the pâtissier opening.”

 

Luhan’s eyes bulge out of his skull as Baekhyun brings up a hand to rub at his forehead.

 

“You? _You’re_ here for the baker position?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

Luhan nearly swallows his tongue. Baekhyun shakes his head a few times in order to regain his grip on reality. He thinks the sugar deprivation is starting to play tricks on his mind.

 

“Um, well, can I see your résumé?”

 

“Résumé?”

 

“Yeah. Where is it?”

 

The young man shrugs his shoulders casually. “I don't have one.”

 

“You _don’t_ have one?”

 

“Gee, you sure need a lot of repeating, don't you?”

 

When Luhan senses Baekhyun gearing up to punt this poor kid’s ass to a distant exoplanet, he places a hand on his shoulder to placate him. The attempt is in vain, though, because Baekhyun slams his hand down onto the counter a second later.

 

“Alright, smartass,” he growls, pushing his eyebrows together. “What can you bake, then?”

 

“It depends. What are you in the mood for?”

 

Baekhyun only smirks.

 

\-----

 

Yifan reemerges an hour later, invigorated as he gracefully descends the steps leading down to the cafe. He thinks he’ll make himself a cup of coffee before going over his plans for the grand re-opening (or _reloading_ , as Luhan now likes to insist) to take place at the end next week.

 

The last thing Yifan expects to greet him when he reaches the bottom floor is for his entire staff (which seems to have doubled in size since he left; Yifan is starting to suspect Luhan of having otherworldly powers) to be standing around with their eyes closed in bliss, chewing on something contained in dainty white porcelain dishes.

 

What he _really_ doesn't expect is for Baekhyun to be resting on the floor behind the front counter in between Luhan’s legs, with dozens of dainty white dishes surrounding the both of them. Golden crumbs litter the ends of Baekhyun’s mouth as he gurgles nonsensically, signifying the beginning of one of his food comas, a sight that Yifan hadn't been graced with in five whole weeks. Behind him, Luhan massages Baekhyun’s scalp while trying to suppress the knowing smirk threatening to invade his face.

 

Yifan isn't sure whether he should call 911 or just go back upstairs and pretend like he saw nothing.

 

“...Luhan? Is Baekhyun okay-”

 

“YIFAN. YOU HAVE TO HIRE HIM,” Baekhyun howls from the floor. Yifan winces.

 

“Hire who?”

 

“PLEASE HIRE HIM. PLEASE JUST DO IT BEFORE I GO IN THERE AND PROPOSE TO HIM RIGHT NOW SO HE CAN MAKE ME MORE OF THESE FOR THE REST OF MY NATURAL-BORN LIFE AND HALFWAY THROUGH MY NEXT.”

 

Yifan raises a curious eyebrow at Baekhyun, which he then directs to Luhan. Holding back a giggle, Luhan gestures to the kitchen with a nod of his head, fingers still carding through Baekhyun’s hair. Chewing on his lip, Yifan warily passes through the doorway behind him and enters the pastry kitchen.

 

Inside, he finds a young boy, dressed terribly with an apron haphazardly tied around his waist, hunched over a tray of pastries and poking at each one of them lightly with a toothpick.

 

Yifan, some mixed of confused and diffident, crosses his arms and puffs out his chest in an attempt to establish his pseudo-dominance.

 

“Um, excuse me?”

 

The boy looks up then, and Yifan is met with an intense pair of deep brown eyes that make his heart stutter a bit. The boy blinks at Yifan a few times before standing up straight.

 

“Oh, hi there!” he chirps, flashing Yifan a winning smile. “Would you like some créme brûlée too? They’re fresh out of the oven.”

 

Yifan is dumbfounded. “...Créme brûlée?”

 

The boy nods, and before Yifan can question further as to who he is and why he’s in _Minseok’s_ kitchen making créme brûlée using _Minseok’s_ cooking utensils and _Minseok’s_ ingredients, a dish containing a golden brown pastry is being offered to him by a slender white hand, pinched between two slim fingers. Yifan’s eyes unwittingly make their way up the stranger’s arm, and he realizes he’s standing a bit too close to this unidentified (but oddly cute) intruder, close enough to make out every line of the boy’s soft facial features, from the ends of his eyebrows to the indent adorning one of his cheeks.

 

The scent of sweet, sweet caramel teases the tip of Yifan’s nose, and he finds his mouth watering reluctantly. Against his better judgement, Yifan gently takes hold of the pastry cup and pops the treat into his mouth, earning him a warm smile from the other.

 

At once, a burst of flavors melts in his mouth, the warm custard mingling with the sweet, but sharp, taste of caramel. The pastry is a bit too hot on his tongue, but Yifan finds himself not caring, letting out a tiny whimper of delight as he chews slowly, savoring every moment.

 

“I'm Zhang Yixing, by the way. I'm here for the pâtissier opening.”

 

Yifan nods, too busy indulging in the variety of textures dancing across his tongue. He isn't sure what his face must be reading right now, but it's enough to make Yixing’s eyes sparkle.

 

“So..” Yixing drifts off, intertwining his hands and letting them hang in front of his body. “What do you think?”

 

Yifan allows himself two more chews before swallowing. He immediately misses sweet sensation, but then realizes there's another whole tray of them sitting on the kitchen island, and possibly an infinite amount of them to come in the near future.

 

His knees nearly give out at the thought.

 

“You’re hired. You can start immediately.”

 

\-----

 

 _Cafe Boyfriend_ opens its doors to the public the following Saturday, and the grand _reloading_ ceremony seems to be going over a lot better than Yifan had anticipated. Most of the tables in the cafe are full, and a steady stream of people continues to flow in as the minutes pass. Ambient chattering layers itself over the moving beats of Big Bang playing in the background, and the line to order at the front counter already stretches to reach halfway to the back wall. Needless to say, Yifan is impressed, admittedly even _thrilled_ , at the way things are turning out.

 

Yifan would have to attribute a large part of _Cafe Boyfriend’s_ eminent success to Baekhyun’s absurd, yet surprisingly effective, marketing campaign, which had involved dressing up the newly-hired servers in aesthetically pleasing outfits and taking pictures of them posed around the cafe. Yifan had failed to see how a shirtless Sehun sitting on top of the counter with a dish rag thrown over his shoulder spoke to the quality of the food served, but according to Baekhyun’s theory, the matter was irrelevant. The cafe could serve slices of burnt toast slathered in hair conditioner if they really wanted to; so long as there were good-looking people associated with the end product, the public would still happily buy it.

 

And so, pictures of shirtless Sehun, suited-up Jongin, and wet Chanyeol lying across the hood of a Lamborghini (Yifan had no complaints so long as he wasn’t the one stuck with the maintenance bill) were posted on the cafe’s website, and they proved to create a fairly heated interest in the comeback of _Kape Kafei_ as _Cafe Boyfriend_.

 

In the short three hours they had been open, the coffee machines had been running non-stop, mostly Baekhyun, Tao, and Jongdae holding down the fort, while the other servers dart about the cafe floor, serving drinks and shamelessly flirting with the patrons as they did so. (It _is_ the job description, after all.) Charm, however, seems to be these workers’ only forte, if the four mugs that Chanyeol had dropped with his _good hands_ were any certification. Jongin had also managed to spill three cups of coffee, two of them _on_ actual customers, and Yifan was worried about the incident stirring up bad publicity, but since Chanyeol and Jongin looked so _damn_ good _while_ messing up, nobody had any complaints.

 

Yifan stands in the middle of the busy cafe, greeting various patrons with a warm smile as they pass by him on their way to a table. The situation is unusual for him, accustomed to spending most hours locked up in his office, but Yifan knows that he has to do this if he wants to give _Cafe Boyfriend_ a more welcoming image. _Homely. Like you never want to leave._

 

In truth, Yifan has become quite familiar with the new members of his staff this past week. He’s learned about Jongdae’s affinity for drama OSTs that parallels Luhan’s, about Jongin and Taemin’s mutual love for dancing, about Minho’s freelance work as a filmmaker, and about Sehun’s sweet tooth that challenges, if not bests, Baekhyun’s. Overall, Yifan's learned to appreciate his new team, despite their clumsiness and lack of experience in anything having to do with walking more than three steps in a straight line.

 

The only one that Yifan hasn't had the chance to meet properly is Yixing. The baker had spent most of the past week holed up in the pastry kitchen, often times clocked in and aproned up long before the other workers wandered in at around nine in the morning. There were many times when Yifan was curious as to what the younger was doing, but he never brought himself to pester Yixing while he was concentrated in his work.

 

Yixing is kind to Yifan, greeting him politely with a slight bow of the head whenever he ran into him, but he doesn’t speak much otherwise. He kept to himself, making silent trips out of the kitchen to grab one of Minseok’s leftovers before retreating back inside. The only person who Yixing had seemed to open up to somewhat was Luhan, which annoyed Yifan to a degree because _he doesn't even work here_ , but also because he wanted Yixing to feel welcome at his new position, not alienated to the point where he couldn't turn to his fellow staff.

 

What’s even more peculiar, however, is the fact that Yifan has not had a single sampling of Yixing’s baking since the créme brûlée tidal wave of last week. Surely Yixing has to have been cooking _something_ , but he’d kept his creations to himself up until now, where he stands proudly behind the bakery counter, the polished display glass stocked with plates upon trays of colorful fresh-baked pastries.

 

Curious, Yifan finds himself hopping over the service barricade and wandering over to Yixing’s post. The younger is just finishing up with an elderly woman, closing up the cash register with a grin and a bubbly _have a nice day!_

 

“I think I’ve underestimated how much I needed to prepare for today,” Yixing remarks without looking up. Yifan is a bit surprised at how quickly the latter has jumped straight into a conversation, used to hearing nothing more than a cordial _“Good morning, Yifan-ge”._

 

Yifan blinks a few times before remembering to respond. “Why do you say that?”

 

“I’ve cleared three trays of my chocolate cinnamon cookies and we’re well on our way to a fourth. The custards are looking a bit light too.” Yixing pouts. “I should really get started on another batch, but I can't leave the counter unattended. I think we should look into hiring a sous chef.”

 

“A sous chef?” Yifan chuckles. “You want a sous chef just for yourself?”

 

“Yeah. Someone to help me around the kitchen so we can be baking more goods while we’re selling them off.”

 

Yifan inwardly grimaces at the thought of anyone else spending time with Yixing in the kitchen, but dismisses it with a shake of his head.

 

“Oh, can you do me a favor?” Yixing pipes up, clapping his hands together and batting his eyelids a few times. “There's a toasted butter pecan cake waiting on the kitchen island. Can you go get it and bring it out here for me? We’re running a little low.”

 

Yifan nods, and is about to head off when he realizes what Yixing has just said. He freezes.

 

“...Did you just say butter pecan cake?”

 

“Yup.”

 

Yifan raises an eyebrow. “...How many tiers?”

 

“Two. I would have made three, but I wanted a higher frosting-to-cake ratio.”

 

“...And the frosting, is it...homemade buttercream frosting?

 

Yixing nods. “Yeah, but I added a little baking cocoa and some cinnamon for a little kick. Hope you don’t mind.”

 

Yifan scratches at his eyebrow.

 

“...Did you really make one of Minseok’s _signature_ toasted butter pecan cakes?!”

 

Yixing shrugs sheepishly. “Well, I tried to?”

 

Yifan is absolutely astounded.

 

“How?! What-is this why you kept taking stuff from the bakery counter back to the kitchen with you?”

 

“Well, yeah.” Yixing scratches his neck. “I figured that the cafe already had a reputation before I came along. I didn't want to be impolite by trampling all over Minseok’s legacy.” He crouches over to inspect the pastries behind the glass. “I think I was able to get most of his repertoire down. Like I said, I just made a few minor changes here and there.”

 

The inflection of Yixing’s voice reflects genuine innocence and concern, and again Yifan is overwhelmed with the urge to wrap Yixing up in something warm and protect him from all of his worries, but this is a silly idea that Yifan waves off as well.

 

Yifan rubs at his eyes with his palms, and afterwards is met with Yixing extending a thin slice of butter pecan cake out to him on a white napkin. His head is tilted at an angle, a smile teasing the ends of his lips.

 

“You can try some if you want. I tried to make it like Minseok's.”

 

As before, Yifan says nothing, only nodding at the other as a thank you before taking the napkin and biting off a small piece of cake. A mix of sweet and mellow tastes meld on Yifan’s tongue, and he finds himself speechless, again, at Yixing’s culinary capabilities. The cake tastes _exactly_ like Minseok’s signature, yet the hints of chocolate and cinnamon in the background make it so distinctly _Yixing._

 

Yixing looks at Yifan hopefully. “Do you like it?”

 

Yifan nods enthusiastically, shooting Yixing a thumbs up, which earns him a delighted grin in return. Yifan feels his heart melt a little at the sight, but focuses on his chewing to avoid doing something stupid like biting off his tongue.

 

Yixing giggles. “Well, you're welcome to hang around here and finish that off. It's your cafe, after all.”

 

Yifan upturns the ends of his mouth and takes a step back so Yixing can get back to servicing customers. He treats each patron fondly, and people young and old seem to be enamored with Yixing and his cute little dimpled smile. Yifan briefly wonders if the cafe had made a mistake not hiring him as a floor host. (He refuses to acknowledge his mild discomfort at the thought of Yixing flirting with others. He blames it on indigestion.)

 

Eventually, Yixing crouches over again to peer through the bakery glass while muttering to himself, driving Yifan to swallow the rest of his cake down in concern.

 

“What's wrong?” Yifan wipes the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

Yixing runs a hand through his hair and exhales. “We just ran out of cookies.”

 

Yifan frowns, chest tightening at the sight of a distressed Yixing. “I'm sure we’ll manage, Yixing, it's okay.”

 

Yixing sighs before dropping all the way to the ground. He pulls out another tinfoil covered tray from underneath the counter. “Well, I mean,” he starts to explain as he stands up. “I made a tray of these yesterday, but I wasn't sure if it was okay to sell them or not…”

 

Without further prompting, Yixing peels back the foil to reveal fifteen golden pastries, neatly arranged into three rows. They're small and round, and Yifan’s jaw drops at the surprisingly familiar sight.

 

“Are those red bean paste cookies?” Yifan asks, salivating at his own question. Yixing nods, chewing on his bottom lip.

 

The sugary scent of the Chinese sweet brings Yifan back to his childhood, when his mom would take him out to the bakery whenever he did well on a test or won a basketball game. Yifan’s heart wrings in his ribcage, and he leans over to rest his weight on the counter as he swallows.

 

“Are these okay to sell?” Yixing’s nervous tone brings Yifan out of his reverie. “I mean, I know we’re in Korea and all, but I've always loved these when I was back in China and-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, totally fine, go ahead and sell them,” Yifan mutters offhandedly, eyes following the tray as Yixing lays it on the counter.

 

Yixing beams at him once more. “Would you like to try one, Yifan?”

 

Yifan stammers, jaw unhinging and closing unattractively. “Uh, no thank you. I'm on a diet. I can't have too many sweets.” He offers Yixing a half smile, patting his stomach for emphasis.

 

“Oh come on,” Yixing teases. “A little sugar won't hurt you.”

 

“Um, it might? Do you know how easy it is to become obese nowadays?”

 

“Oh please, I hardly think you're in danger of that anytime soon,” Yixing replies, eyes subtly flitting down to Yifan’s toned abdominals. (Yifan doesn't catch it.)

 

“Still, diabetes is a real thing! You know, adults over the age of twenty are now at risk for _prediabetes_ , which could leads to an increased-”

 

Yixing manages to shut Yifan up by shoving a cookie into his mouth. Yifan nearly chokes and has to bring a hand up to prevent himself from coughing and spitting out crumbs everywhere. He shoots Yixing a scandalized look.

 

Yixing only simpers at him.

 

“Don’t worry Yifan, I'll be mindful of your diet restrictions.” He reassures as he slides the tray of cookies behind the glass and closes the door.

 

“But what can I say? I like being the exception.”

 

\-----

 

It is three weeks later that _Cafe Boyfriend_ has its near run-in with death.

 

If you were to ask Yifan, he would say that he should’ve expected it, seeing as a bad omen had been cast on the cafe ever since they had opened up shop on that dreaded morning.

 

\-----

 

At 7:24AM, Do Kyungsoo strolls into _Cafe Boyfriend_ , whistling a light tune and clacking away at his cell phone. Seeing as their morning rush usually doesn’t start until eight, the rest of the coffeehouse is empty, save for Kim Jongin manning the front counter.

 

Kyungsoo ambles up to the counter, firing off one last text before locking his phone and looking up at whoever’s servicing him. He’s met with a Jongin whose chin is cradled in his palms, a lazy smirk adorning his lips and a devilish twinkle in his eye.

 

Kyungsoo directs his attention to the menu behind him.

 

“I’ll have an iced caramel macchiato to go, easy on the ice, and…” Kyungsoo squints to read the print at the bottom of one of the menu panels. Jongin almost melts. “...and give me a slice of the finest thing you’re serving here.”

 

Jongin’s only smirk grows bigger. He picks himself off the counter and slides over to the register, tongue peeking out to run over his bottom lip.

 

“You know, I’m not sure if I can fulfill the second half of your request,” he teases airily. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow, unamused.

 

“Why not?”

 

Jongin chuckles to himself before leaning over the counter once more, pressing his face far too deep into Kyungsoo’s personal space. He licks his lips again, this time slower and more sensually, and Kyungsoo has to hold back an unmanly squeak.

 

“Because the finest thing they have here is _my ass_ , and baby, I’m not sure if you’d be happy with _just a slice_ of that.”

 

His lips are only inches away from Kyungsoo’s plump ones, and if Jongin justs eases himself forward a tiny bit more, he’d be able to _taste_ -

 

A sudden _thwack_ against the back of his head makes Jongin let out a pained yelp, and Kyungsoo jumps back at least a good foot farther away from the counter (much to Jongin’s dismay). Behind him, Yifan casually glides over to the coffee maker and places his favorite mug underneath the spout.

 

Jongin groans loudly, still sprawled over the counter. Yifan rolls his eyes.

 

“I'm not paying you to harass my customers, Jongin.”

 

“I wasn’t _harassing_ him,” Jongin grumbles. “I was _using my physical assets to make the customer feel more at ease with his immediate surroundings._ I’m pretty sure that’s what you pay me for.”

 

Yifan grabs his filled mug and heads towards the staircase.

 

“Whatever it is, Jongin, do it on your own time. If you want to suck Kyungsoo’s face so badly, just let me know! I have his address!”

 

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to protest at the same time Jongin flips his head up to continue whining, and Yifan has all intentions to just ignore them and keep walking up the stairs when a blood-curdling scream stops him in his tracks.

 

He turns around to find Kyungsoo ghost white, staring at Jongin with his jaw about halfway to the floor. Yifan backpedals and cranes his neck around to see what the commotion is about.

 

His answer comes in the form of two dark red stripes running down Jongin’s upper lip, meeting to pool at the collar of his grey sweater vest.

 

Yifan almost cries.

 

\-----

 

“You know, he could sue you for this,” Kyungsoo spits at Yifan. Jongin’s been relocated to sit in a chair as Kyungsoo hovers over him worriedly. “Hell, he _should_ sue you for this.”

 

A few feet away, Yifan leans with his back hip against the counter, rubbing his temples with his thumb and middle finger.

 

“I didn’t even hit him that hard! How was I supposed to know he was so susceptible to nosebleeds?!”

 

“You’re the boss here. You’re supposed to be aware of the needs of your workers.” Kyungsoo continues to fuss over Jongin, discarding bloodied napkins and shoving fresh ones up his nostrils.

 

At the sight of a petrified and incoherent Jongin, who had become that way ever since he realized the blood on his shirt was indeed _his_ , Yifan has to admit he feels pretty guilty. Jongin can only stare forward, babbling nonsensically every so often. Kyungsoo looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm. (They’d totally be good for each other.)

 

“You’ve just been standing there for the past ten minutes. Aren’t you actually going to do something?!” Kyungsoo snaps.

 

“What am I _supposed_ to do?!”

 

“Oh my god, Luhan was right, you _are_ useless-”

 

“-Since _when_ do you talk to _Luhan_ -”

 

“-Go inside the kitchen and wet a dish rag or something so we can put it on his nose and stop the bleeding!”

 

Right. Wet rag. Yifan hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. (Kyungsoo would’ve said Yifan never seems to think at _all_.)

 

With that, Yifan scrambles towards the kitchen. Upon rushing through the doorway, he nearly manages to eat polished floor tiles, saving himself from chipping a tooth by latching onto the doorknob with a death grip.

 

Catching his breath, he looks up and sees Yixing diligently washing his icing spatula at the sink. Sehun, on the other hand, is at the far end of the kitchen island, wielding what looks like Minseok’s five-hundred dollar culinary blowtorch. Chanyeol is also in the kitchen, wheeling a pail of soapy water around and mopping in the far corner while humming the - _wait_ , is he humming the _Teletubbies theme song?!_

 

“Yifan-ge! Good morning!” Yixing calls brightly over the faucet. “Did you need something?”

 

There are many things that Yifan could use right now, ranging from a first aid kit for Jongin to dinner reservations for him and Yixing to maybe some prescription heart medication for himself, but settles to dispute one of the more pressing issues at hand.

 

“Why does Sehun have a blowtorch?” Yifan croaks.

 

“Oh!” Yixing whips his whole body around, glancing over at where Sehun is flicking the device on and off repeatedly. Yifan wonders if it's his turn to catch a nosebleed.

 

“We’re making flambe bananas.” Yixing answers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Yifan forces an unbelieving smile.

 

“Yes, but why is _he_ the one doing the flambe’ing?!”

 

“He said he wanted to help. He’s been doing well these past few weeks, Yifan.”

 

In the midst of the morning’s chaos, Yifan had momentarily forgotten that Yixing had been training Sehun to be his kitchen hand. Yifan had been a little reluctant to the idea at first, not only because of his repressed interests in Yixing, but he also happens to be a few months behind on his insurance payments on the cafe.

 

“Did you need anything, Yifan?” Yixing asks again, wiping his hands dry.

 

Yifan shakes his head a few times to bring himself back to the present. He stands up a little straighter.

 

“Yeah, yeah, can you wet a towel or something and give it to me? I might have accidentally given Jongin a nosebleed, and he’s scared shitless right now because of all the blood.”

 

Yixing’s eyes widen and suddenly Yifan regrets ever opening his mouth. In the background, he can hear Chanyeol’s overly dramatic gasp.

 

“You _gave_ Jongin a nosebleed?!” Yixing squawks. Yifan panics.

 

“Well, yes, but, I mean, it was an accident, he was, I mean...I’m so sorry.”

 

Yifan’s eyes remain glued to Yixing, who stays completely still where he is. Meanwhile, Chanyeol pads out of the kitchen and into the cafe.

 

He returns a few moments later, lugging Jongin’s upper half in through the doorway, Kyungsoo trailing behind him with Jongin’s feet in his hands. Yifan braces himself against the door.

 

Yixing’s focus lands on the splotch of blood staining the front of Jongin’s shirt. “Uh, guys? I hardly think this is _sanitary-_ ”

 

They choose to ignore him, with Kyungsoo frantically shrieking _where do we put him do we have to keep his body elevated oh my god someone HELP HIM WHAT IF HE BLEEDS OUT-_

 

As the screaming and shouting in the small pastry kitchen increases in volume and intensity, poor Sehun and his blowtorch are forgotten, and consequently, Sehun’s terrible, terrible fear of blood is overlooked in the heat of the moment as well.

 

Sehun promptly collapses to the floor, unconscious, with his fingers still clenched around the trigger of the blowtorch, the sputtering flame igniting the saucepan of bananas resting on the counter.

 

It is then the fire alarm that manages to lead the hysteria to an end, only to bring an onslaught of new terrors because _oh my god, the saucepan is on fire._ Chanyeol and Kyungsoo look on in shock as the orange flame grows taller and taller, and even Jongin is whimpering anxiously in their arms.

 

In that instant, Yifan decides it would be a good idea to run over to Yixing and throw the younger over his shoulder before bolting out of the kitchen, leaving the others to deal with their fiery doom. He screams _FIRE_ like it’s bloody murder on his way out the front door, nearly barreling into Tao as he waddles in after his morning workout at the gym.

 

Tao, confused, simply wanders into the kitchen, with all of his equipment slung over his shoulder. When he sees the situation that’s unfolding in front of him, he says nothing, only calmly unscrewing the cap to his water bottle and dousing the saucepan with its contents. The flames simmer to a halt within a few seconds.

 

Yifan is already halfway down the next block.

 

\-----

 

Sehun comes to about an hour later, with no recollection of what happened. (Everyone decides it's better kept that way.) They're also able to alleviate Jongin’s nosebleed, but then he gets the idea to threaten the cafe with a lawsuit _unless_ Kyungsoo agrees to go out on a date with him. (Kyungsoo “reluctantly” quips out a yes.)

 

Baekhyun, after being caught up on the situation, goes out to retrieve Yifan and Yixing. He finds them at the bus stop five blocks away, with Yifan holding each of Yixing’s wrists to carefully inspect his arms for any burns.

 

When Baekhyun explains what happened after they had left, Yifan is mortified. Yixing, however, only laughs and pats Yifan on the cheek, before sauntering out of the bus stop and following Baekhyun back up the street without another word.

 

Yifan wants to assimilate into the concrete.

 

\-----

 

In the coming weeks, Yixing becomes a lot more forward when it comes to Yifan. He often stops Yifan for a chat whenever he’s making his rounds around the cafe. He giggles - _adorably_ , if Yifan might add - at most of the things Yifan says, even if he didn't think his harangue about different types of Latin American coffee beans was _that_ entertaining. Yixing has also gotten fairly _touchy_ , tugging at Yifan’s wrist to get his attention and letting his fingers linger on Yifan’s forearm when talking. And above all, Yixing has maintained his habit of calling Yifan into the kitchen and shoving food in his unsuspecting mouth. (Despite Yifan’s endless dietary complaints, he still swallows it all down anyways.)

 

The whole thing drives Yifan mad.

 

Because Yixing is so _sweet, sickeningly_ so, sweeter than all of the treats he’s bakes. The lilt to his voice is laced with sugar, and his laugh is airy and whipped like cream frosting. To Yifan, Yixing is a sugar rush, one he wouldn't mind getting a toothache from every day for the rest of his life.

 

Somewhere along the way, Yifan had started waiting up for Yixing at night before locking up the cafe. He would swing by the kitchen and help him store the cakes away in the freezer before escorting Yixing out to the parking lot in the back. Their conversations during this spanned anywhere from anything to anyone, and Yifan ends up learning that Yixing is afraid of most dogs, likes spicy foods, and has a habit of singing and dancing while cooking in his home kitchen, _especially_ in the mornings. (Yifan reckons then, that that’s a sight he’d like to be able to see sometime soon.)

 

It is on one night in particular, when the rest of the staff had bailed an hour earlier, and Yifan is stuck drying while Yixing washes, that Yixing has a monumental epiphany.

 

“I want to make the perfect chocolate brownie.”

 

“I'm sure you can,” Yifan replies, not even sparing the other a glance.

 

Yixing turns off the faucet then, prompting Yifan to look over at him. There’s a concentrated furrow to his eyebrows as he chews on the corner of his lip.

 

“No, I'm serious. I want to make the perfect chocolate brownie.”

 

Yifan quietly lays his towel down on the counter and turns to Yixing. “...Okay?” he offers, a smile pulling at the ends of his lips. Yixing shoots him a disapproving look and rolls his eyes.

 

“I’m _serious_ , Yifan.” He crosses his arms. “Up until now, I’ve just been baking your standard cookies, muffins, and some of Minseok’s old signature dishes.” Yixing sighs dejectedly. “But that’s the _point_. They’re _Minseok’s_ signature. Not mine.”

 

Yifan raises an eyebrow, and at once Yixing starts stammering.

 

“I didn’t mean Minseok’s cooking is bad, like no, Minseok is _far_ from that, he’s practically a god-” Yixing speaks so fast he nearly chokes on his own spit. He clears his throat. “What I meant was, like...Minseok has his signature tarts, signature truffles, signature cakes, signature _everything_ …I just want something to be my signature, you know?”

 

Yixing, with his ruffled hair and drooping eyes, makes Yifan want to snuggle him close to his chest and kiss his forehead until his woes disappears, but then he straightens his back and locks his determined gaze with Yifan’s.

 

“And I’ve always liked brownies, so yeah. That’s what I want my legacy to be. The perfect chocolate brownie.”

 

Yifan listens to Yixing attentively as he speaks, nodding his head in agreement when he finishes.

 

“Well, like I said, I’m sure you’ll be able to do it, Yixing, you’re a very talented-”

“Can you help me?”

 

Yifan’s eyebrows press together as he forces himself to process what Yixing has just said.

 

“...Help you?”

 

“Yeah. With the brownie stuff.” Yixing shoulders perk up, and there’s a hopeful glint in his eyes. “I know you may not be an expert in foods and whatnot, but you know I always appreciate your opinion when you’re taste testing my work-”

 

“-You mean when I’m being _force fed_ your work.”

 

Yixing sticks his tongue out at Yifan, but has no malice behind his actions. “Either way, I could really use your help in this. We could work at my apartment most days of the week.” He then flashes Yifan one of his dazzling smiles, the one that makes his dimple appear against his perfectly unblemished skin.

 

“So what do you say? Do you want to help me make the perfect brownie?”

 

...There are many reasons that Yifan _should_ decline (it would run a bit late, he has non-existent cats at home he needs to tend to, if the kitchen catches on fire he can’t guarantee he wouldn’t carry Yixing out of his apartment bridal style and down the staircase with him in his arms like that), but, of course, his heart, his tongue, and other questionable parts of his tiny brain manage to team up and silence his better judgment.

 

“When can we start?”

 

\-----

 

For someone who’s as meticulous in his work as Zhang Yixing, his apartment is kind of a trainwreck. There’s books and various clothing items scattered all over the carpet, and Yifan would be lucky to find a flat surface that wasn't covered in papers or magazines. The only sanitary area of his apartment is, expectedly, his kitchen.

 

Yifan had been thoughtful enough to run to the store earlier to buy flour and eggs, and Yixing instructs him to put the grocery bags on the kitchen counter before segueing into a cursory tour of his apartment.

 

“The bathroom is down the hall and to the left. If you get something on your clothes, my bedroom is on the right, you can try to find something that fits you,” Yixing says as he starts pulling bowls and other cooking utensils out of his cabinets. “You're free to look in the closet for a shirt and the drawers on the right hand side for pants. But don't look in the ones on the left.”

 

Yifan nods along absentmindedly. “Why not the left?”

 

Yixing hums. “I’m not sure if I want your hands on my underwear just yet, Wu Yifan,” he remarks so lightly, closing one of his drawers with a pop of his hip.

 

Yifan can tell it's certainly going to be a long night.

 

\-----

 

At some point in the evening, it had dawned on Yifan that _maybe_ coming over to Yixing’s apartment to do this brownie thing probably hadn’t been the best idea. He vaguely wonders if there's a chance of Park Chanyeol being his distant cousin, because his both of his hands and the front of shirt are covered in brownish blotches and lines, and he’s pretty sure there’s half of a raw egg drying on his pant leg near his left ankle. (For the record, Yixing's kitchen doesn't look much better, and that's only really _half_ his fault.)

 

At the given moment, though, Yifan has definitively ruled that _yes_ , coming over to Yixing’s apartment to do the brownie thing was a terrible, _horrendous_ idea, because not only is Yixing’s kitchen a hot mess, but there's a chocolate fudge stripe curling around the corner of Yixing’s upper lip (God knows _how_ it got there) and Yifan suddenly has this burning desire to just lean over a little farther and _lick it off of Yixing’s face._

 

Yifan tries to be subtle with his staring, but can feel himself failing as the seconds tick by. Eventually, the younger sighs frustratedly, and for a moment Yifan thinks he’s been made, but then he lets out a sigh of relief as Yixing steps over to the oven. The relief is short lived, however, because then Yixing decides to bend over _at the waist_ to check on the batch of brownies in the oven, the black skinny jeans he’s wearing do little to hide the slight curve of his ass and the taper of his hips.

 

Yifan allows himself to ogle shamelessly for a few seconds. He then contemplates shoving the stick end of the wooden spoon he’s holding down his trachea, because he’s sinned enough and seen all that he needs to see to die happy tonight.

 

Seeming to notice the fudge on his lip in his oven-door reflection, Yixing sighs again and uses his thumb to wipe up the chocolate before popping it into his mouth to clean it off. Yifan raises his wooden spoon ever-so-closer to his mouth.

 

“How's that next batch coming along?” Yixing asks, pulling out his thumb with a (lewd) pop. Yifan wills his eyes to look away and back down at what he's working on.

 

“Um, fine, I guess,” he stutters out, staring down at his bowl of lumpy brownie batter. Yixing sidles up to him, peering around his shoulder.

 

“You call _that_ mixed?” he squawks. Yifan just gapes at the bowl, eyes resting on the pile of solid flour that’s sitting in the middle of a pond of egg white, and offers a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

 

Rolling his eyes, Yixing sighs and grabs onto the edges of the bowl with both his hands.

 

“There, now stir.”

 

Sticking the spoon back into the bowl, Yifan begins to hesitantly push around its contents with the tip.

 

“Use two hands, Yifan. And put some muscle into it. I'm holding still here for a reason,” Yixing comments from the side. Yifan immediately brings the other hand up and begins to move the spoon in a crisscrossing motion, panicking slightly.

 

“Harder, Yifan, do it _harder_. And go a little faster, will you? Use circular motions. It's more effective that way.”

 

Yifan follows Yixing’s every command, tongue peeking out the side of his mouth as he focuses. There's a subtle sheen of sweat that he can taste at the corner of his lips, and that’s when Yifan realizes the room has gotten a little hotter compared to two minutes ago. It’s probably just the oven, he figures. Or is Yixing’s thermostat broken? Yifan makes a mental note to refer Yixing to his repairman later.

 

Yixing, all of a sudden, tells Yifan to stop moving, and at once he halts his ministrations. He scrutinizes the bowl for a few seconds before taking two fingers and swiping it through the dark brown batter. (Yifan hardly thinks that is _sanitary_.)

 

And then, to his surprise, Yixing extends his two chocolate-covered fingers towards Yifan’s mouth.

 

“Try it,” is all he says, with no leading edge to his tone.

 

Yifan just gulps.

 

“Wait, right now?”

 

Yixing nods, facial expression still far too straight for what he’s currently asking of Yifan. “Just taste it. Come on.

 

He presses his fingers a little bit closer, and Yifan cranes his neck back a little on instinct. He stares at Yixing, trying to read if he’s serious or not, but Yixing just holds still, with two batter-covered fingers crooked right underneath Yifan’s nose, the rich scent of chocolate thwarting his better judgement yet again.

 

Slowly, he takes both of Yixing’s fingers into his mouth, lips closing around his second knuckles, using his tongue to gently lap up some of the chocolate around the tips. It's sweet, of course, and tastes close to _heavenly_ , but Yifan is far too absorbed in the fervid gaze that Yixing is sending him to fully pay attention.

 

After feeling like his stomach is going to burst from how much it's twisting, Yifan eventually releases Yixing’s fingers, the pads still gleaming with his own spit. There’s still some batter left circled around Yixing’s knuckles that Yifan can't bring himself to look at.

 

Yixing brings his fingers back up to inspect them himself. He sighs exasperatedly.

 

“Gosh, Yifan, didn't you ever learn anything about licking things clean?”

 

Before Yifan can open his mouth to squeak out some sort of argument, he watches, stupefied, as Yixing pops both of his long, slender fingers into his mouth and _sucks_ on them, cleaning off the rest of the chocolate with his tongue and removing them with another wet pop.

 

Yifan stares as Yixing smacks his lips together and hums thoughtfully.

 

“It's too sweet,” he concludes after a pause. “We’ll try adding more cocoa next time. And maybe some more egg whites.”

 

Yifan drops the batter-covered spoon onto his expensive sneakers.

 

\-----

 

The ritual continues as follows:

 

On every night except weekends, Yifan would follow Yixing back to his apartment after locking up the cafe to help him with his pursuit of the perfect brownie. Additionally, on Wednesday nights, they would go grocery shopping together to buy new ingredients to experiment with. (Seldom did anything actually _work_ , though, and at this point, Yixing’s kitchen cabinets are starting to overflow with all of the useless bottles and containers taking up space.)

 

Throughout this whole process, Yifan’s gotten noticeably better at not making a mess of everything he touches. Yixing, however, _still_ has a habit of getting random bits of food on his face and sucking on his fingers to clean them off quickly, of wearing tight pants and loose shirts that ride up when he has to reach to get something from a high cabinet, of giggling and hitting Yifan on the shoulder as they work, of wearing cologne (that also smells warm and sweet, who would have guessed) that makes Yifan’s head spin whenever he has to glide past him in the tight kitchen - essentially, being so incredibly _Yixing_ that Yifan could be hospitalized for his impending sugar overdose.

 

Yifan’s also managed to become very acquainted with Yixing’s bathroom. The whole ordeal had started when Yixing decided to put on music one day, and it was all fun and games for a while, with them howling along to old-school Shinhwa songs as they waited for their brownies to bake. But then Sistar’s “Touch My Body” came on, and, unfortunately for Yifan, Yixing had known the whole dance to it, from the hip shakes to the booty pops to the body waves. Even _more_ unfortunately for Yifan, he had happened to be holding a can of whipped cream, which he had _so conveniently_ missed spraying onto the finished brownies, and ended up having to lick the excess off of his fingers again. Yifan had to excuse himself less than halfway through the song, and soon decides that Yixing’s bathroom makes for a decent hiding place for whenever Yixing poses too much of a threat to his physical health.

 

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks stack up to nearly a month, Yifan finds himself more and more flummoxed at the enigma that is Zhang Yixing. Either way, Yifan resolves to remain neutral to the younger’s mixed advances, but one of the many things he isn’t certain about is whether _his resolve_ can handle much more of Yixing, period.

 

\-----

 

During one of his lunch breaks, Luhan decides to be a good, good friend and drop by _Cafe Boyfriend_ to offer his unending support to his fellow comrades and their business. And by that, he means to lie on top of their service counter and play Tetris on his phone, effectively disrupting all customer orders that try to come in for the hour.

 

Baekhyun doesn’t even bother to tell him to get lost, instead just taping an “out-of-order” sign he made with a napkin to the front of the counter.

 

“So I heard Kyungsoo went out on a date with Jongin,” Luhan mumbles, eyes still trained on his screen.

 

“What do you mean _heard?_ ”

 

“...Exactly what it sounds like. I _heard_ somewhere that Jongin took Kyungsoo out on a date.”

 

Baekhyun snorts. “You mean you _saw_. You _saw_ Jongin and Kyungsoo out on a date together.”

 

Luhan wrinkles his nose. “You're being weird, Baek.”

 

“And you're being a _liar_. Chanyeol told me that Sehun took you out to the movies _and_ that you guys caught Jongin and Kyungsoo sucking face in the back row!”

 

Luhan turns bright red. “...Fuck, I told Sehun to keep his mouth shut-”

 

Baekhyun squeals and hits Luhan’s thigh. “Luhan has a bitch-faced boyfriend, how cute-”

 

“Shut _up_ , Baekhyun. And why are you so _friendly_ with Chanyeol nowadays, yeesh-”

 

“-So how _was_ Sehun?”

 

“...Okay, but then again, backseat sex is rarely ever pleasant.”

 

“...”

 

“...You meant dinner, didn't you.”

 

As if on cue, Yixing silently ambles out of the kitchen and dumps a tray of Minseok’s double stuffed brownies onto the counter with a clang. Baekhyun and Luhan turn their heads to find frustration creasing the edges of his countenance.

 

“They're slightly burnt, so I can't sell them, but I thought you two might like to have them,” Yixing deadpans. His eyes drill holes into the flooring tiles as he speaks. Baekhyun offers Yixing a small smile as a thank you and slides the tray closer to him and Luhan. Luhan sits up and picks a brownie out of the pan.

 

“Are you alright, Xing? You look kinda tense.” Luhan pops the whole brownie into his mouth and chews on it slowly.

 

Sighing heavily, Yixing just crosses his arms and shakes his head.

 

“Is Yifan just dense or am I just an idiot?”

 

Baekhyun stops mid-chew and raises an eyebrow. “What’s this in reference to?”

 

Rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes, Yixing lets out a small whine. “I’ve been inviting him over to my place and trying to make a pass at him for _weeks_ now, and he keeps like, not reacting.”

 

“Like rejecting you?” Luhan asks, brownie bits sprinkling out of his mouth.

 

“No, I mean like, he just kinda stands there dumbly or doesn't do anything. Or he asks to go to the bathroom.” Yixing scratches at his ear. “Does he have bladder issues or something? Should someone call a doctor?!”

 

Luhan doesn't respond, instead pushing himself off of the counter. He grabs another brownie and mutters a quiet _brb_ before heading down to the storage closet that the others workers have transformed into a break room for when they're not waiting on customers.

 

Seconds later, an exuberant _“YOU GUYS ALL HAVE TO PAY UP, YIFAN TOTALLY GETTING LAID BEFORE HE TURNS THIRTY-FIVE”_ is heard, and when Yixing glances at Baekhyun for an explanation, he notices the latter grumbling to himself and rubbing the pocket of his pants where he keeps his wallet. Yixing figures he’s better off not knowing.

 

“Look, Yixing,” Baekhyun begins, taking a few steps forward until he can put his hands on Yixing’s shoulders, forcing him to look at him directly. “If I'm going to be honest, Yifan is denser than that pan of brownies you just baked for us, and even if you took out an egg or two, he’d _still_ be denser.”

 

Yixing just blinks at him, confusion etched on his face. Baekhyun sighs, shaking Yixing's shoulders as he continues.

 

“The point is, Yifan may look all smart and strong, and even _attractive_ to certain species of humans, but in reality, he’s like a chihuahua with his tail perpetually stuck between his legs. If you want anything to do with him, you gotta be straight up with him.”

 

Yixing gives himself a few seconds to let Baekhyun’s words sink in, before his begins to nod to himself pensively. Baekhyun exhales and relaxes his shoulders.

 

“And if it's any help, I am 99.9% sure Yifan is into y-”

 

Baekhyun’s tidbit never makes it to Yixing’s ears, because the baker suddenly breaks out of his hold and trudges into the kitchen without another word.

 

The barista looks on confusedly as Yixing reemerges a few seconds later, with a bowl and a spoon, and treks up the stairway leading to the upper level of the cafe.

 

\-----

 

“Come in,” Yifan calls out when he hears a knock on his office door.

 

Yixing quietly enters, stepping sideways through the doorway and using his free hand to close it shut behind him. Yifan closes his laptop, eyes landing on the bowl in Yixing’s other hand. He presses his lips together curiously.

 

“Is there something up-”

 

“Try this,” is all Yixing says, having glided forward three steps until he’s right in front of the desk, outstretching a wooden spoon covered in (suspiciously light) brown batter towards Yifan’s lips.

 

Yifan, having gotten used to this ritual, doesn't even move an inch. “Is this brownie batter?”

 

Yixing doesn't answer, only pushing the spoon forward a bit further. “Try it.”

 

There’s a odd serenity to Yixing’s aura as he stands before Yifan. Usually the younger would giggle, or at least have a hint of a smile pulling at his lips, but here he is, face completely blank and posture completely straight.

 

Deciding not to question further, Yifan opens his mouth and stretches his neck forward to have a taste, when Yixing jerks the spoon back all of a sudden, nearly making Yifan bite off the tip of his own tongue.

 

Baffled, Yifan’s struggles to form the words to ask Yixing if he’s feeling _okay_ , but then the younger just pops the spoon into his own mouth, leaving Yifan’s jaw hanging in mid-air.

 

Yixing then pulls the (cleaned) spoon out of his mouth and mosies his way around the desk, grabbing Yifan by his tie and yanking him up out of his chair. He says nothing, crashing his lips onto Yifan’s in a hungered kiss.

 

Yifan is about to choke, not just because he can't _believe_ what is happening, but _literally_ , because Yixing decides to poke his tongue past Yifan’s lips without any forewarning, and suddenly all Yifan can taste is _chocolate_ , with Yixing swirling his tongue around Yifan’s and the back of his hand pressing into his neck to hold him there. Yifan feels himself being walked backwards until his back hits the wall, and even then Yixing is _still_ there, insistent as ever, licking around Yifan’s mouth and not giving the other the proper chance to breathe. It’s so warm, _hot_ even, and so unerringly _sweet_ , that Yifan finds himself melting as his senses are drowned in the sugar emanating from Zhang Yixing.

 

And then, Yixing just pulls back, swallowing down the rest of the chocolate in his mouth and smacking his lips together, like he's pondering over the taste of their kiss, judging its flavor and it's fervor. Yifan is left there, dazed (and hungry), with a little dribble hanging out the corner of his mouth. He swallows down the chocolate in his mouth as well (which, at this point, he’s realized is _not_ brownie batter at all) and stares at Yixing, absolutely dumbstruck.

 

“Hmm...it's not sweet enough.” Yixing reflects nonchalantly, clicking his tongue. “You're going to have to help me with this tonight.”

 

Yifan chokes.

 

“T-Tonight?”

 

Yixing nods and tries to school the smirk that’s making the end of his lip twitch.

 

“Well, I hardly think we’re finished, are we?”

 

\-----

 

Yifan’s mother had taught him that good things come in pairs. Such is the case for things like apples, friends, jumper cables, boobs, etcetera. Pairs can also come in complements to each other, such as black to white, Elvis to rock-and-roll, and strawberries to whipped cream.

 

In certain cases, however, a third party or object can act as the complement _to_ the complements, greatly increasing the overall value of the trio compared to that of the original pair. For example, in the case of strawberries and whipped cream, the addition of chocolate syrup. Or, you know, a naked Yixing.

 

Yifan isn’t sure how he ended up in his current position. He had arrived at Yixing’s door about an hour later than usual, with sweaty palms and a pounding heart, and as soon as he had knocked on the door, he’d been tugged inside the dark apartment and thrown up against the door. Immediately, he felt Yixing on him, lips on lips, body pressing into his, and Yifan found purchase placing his hands on Yixing’s shoulders. Yixing was bare, or at least his top half was, and Yifan’s curious hands began to slide downwards to see just how much of Yixing’s skin was open for him to touch. Yixing stopped him at his waist, though, not that Yifan had complained, instead massaging the soft flesh at his hipbones as the younger licked deeper into his mouth. His tongue tasted of fresh strawberries, saccharine but with a sour kick, and Yifan couldn’t help but suck it greedily into his own mouth, relishing in the flavor, readily anticipating what the rest of Yixing must taste like.

 

“You were late,” Yixing had whispered against Yifan’s lips. “So I had a treat for myself while I waited for you.” He ghosted his fingers down the front of Yifan’s collared shirt, stopping at the first button, before pulling back and gazing at Yifan with heavy eyes. Even his _breath_ was sweet, Yifan had noted.

 

“Take this off and wait for me.” Yixing fingered at the first button, biting his lip. Yifan just nodded, and then Yixing’s weight against him was gone as he disappeared into the darkness.

 

And this is how Yifan currently finds himself seated on the couch, shirtless, as Yixing slowly traipses towards him, naked and licking the last of some whipped cream off of his fingers. He comfortably settles himself in Yifan’s lap while dragging the tip of his index finger out of his mouth and across his bottom lip.

 

“This is more fun if you don’t touch until I tell you to, okay?” Yixing mumbles softly, and Yifan, again, nods while wetting his bottom lip.

 

Yixing shakes the spray can of whipped cream and ejects some of it onto Yifan’s shoulder. He lowers himself down and begins to lap at the crook where Yifan’s neck meets his shoulder, biting and sucking on the skin until patches of red bloom in its wake. Yifan releases a heavy groan, hands instinctively coming up to grab at some part of the boy on top of him.

 

Yixing, however, stills his wrists with his hands, tsking against Yifan’s collarbone.

 

“Now, now, what did I say?” he chuckles coyly, easing Yifan’s hands back down behind him. Yifan whines in response, his fingers itching to touch what he’s been yearning for for so long.

 

Yixing only pecks him chastely, smiling into the kiss.

 

“You can have me later. But right now, I’ve been waiting _forever_ to have you.”

 

Yifan moans while Yixing continues with his ministrations, spraying whipped cream across Yifan’s collarbones and licking along the path he’s created. Yifan is completely at Yixing’s mercy as he trails his tongue down his abdominals, back arching when the tip grazes over his navel.

 

Slinking down, Yixing nimbly undoes Yifan’s pants. When he hooks his index fingers around the waistband and slowly drags them down his legs, Yifan is left groaning, hands flying up to tangle in his own hair as he struggles to keep still.

 

Yixing nuzzles his cheek against the fabric of Yifan’s boxers before tugging them down as well, Yifan’s hardened member springing to life. Yixing ogles at it, licking his lips before returning his gaze to Yifan’s blown pupils.

 

Yixing just hums, and before Yifan can (ironically) coo at how adorable Yixing can be when doing something so _naughty,_ he feels the coolness of whipped cream being sprayed on the tip of his erection, making him hiss in shock and delight.

 

And then, Yixing gives a few kittenish licks to the tip, lapping up the white cream dolloped there, before engulfing the entire head with an obscene noise, slurping up the rest of the cream. He takes the rest of the length into his mouth, tip hitting the back of his throat, and Yifan is turned into a whimpering mess as he watches Yixing bob his head up and down, the cream already long gone. He circles his tongue around the tip and hollows his cheeks, sucking all around, wrapping his hand around the base and giving it a loving squeeze or two.

 

Yifan makes a noise of protest when Yixing pulls off so suddenly, pouting in hopes for him to continue, but the younger just winks at him before disappearing once more, leaving Yifan’s member cold and leaking.

 

He returns with a bottle of chocolate syrup and climbs into Yifan’s lap again, sighing contentedly as he squeezes his thighs around the elder’s, looking thoroughly pleased. Again, Yifan wants to lean forward and pepper kisses all over Yixing’s face for being so cute, but he's not sure if that goes under the “no-touching” clause at the given moment.

 

Yixing uncaps the bottle then, and takes his sweet time in sensually drizzling chocolate sauce all over his shoulders and across his lean pectorals, moaning as the chilled syrup glazes over his nipples. He tosses his head back, exposing a long column of pale skin, all for Yifan to see and mark as his own. Yifan just stares, salivating, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

 

It occurs to him then, that Yixing is doing all of this _solely_ for Yifan, preparing himself like a special treat for him to see and for him to taste. Yixing is Yifan’s delicacy, for only _him_ to indulge in and ravish.

 

It makes Yifan appetite burn with hunger.

 

After smearing some chocolate below his jaw with his fingers, Yixing closes the bottle and sets it on the table behind him. He leans back on his palms, sighing and giving Yifan his best tempting look, wiggling his hips a little and worrying his bottom lip with his front teeth.

 

_“Come and get it.”_

 

And Yifan does, surging forward to attack Yixing’s nape, using his hands to press his body against his. Yixing keens as Yifan’s tongue dances across his chest, swirling around each nipple and giving each a little nip with his teeth. Yifan’s large hands massage up and down Yixing’s sides, trying to grip at something and everything at once. Yixing’s flesh is sweet, just like the rest of him, and Yifan finds himself not able to get enough. He growls, sinking his teeth into Yixing’s shoulder, savoring in the taste and driving a high-pitched moan out of the younger.

 

Hands trailing downwards, Yifan palms at the swell of Yixing’s ass, giving each cheek a firm squeeze as one of his middle fingers teases Yixing’s entrance. Above him, Yixing lets out a mewl, panting and grinding his lower half against Yifan’s.

 

“I told you I gave myself a treat earlier,” Yixing manages to utter out, and before Yifan can question further, he leans over to retrieve where a condom and some lube have been stashed behind a couch pillow.

 

Yifan isn't sure what he’s more turned on at, the fact that Yixing clearly had been planning for this to happen, or that Yixing had fingered himself open earlier to the thought of this _happening_. He shudders under Yixing, the thrill of the moment suddenly overwhelming him.

 

Yixing wastes no time in ripping open the foil and rolling the condom down onto Yifan, the latter releasing a tiny moan as dainty fingers trace down his sensitive member. He uses both of his hands to slather up Yifan’s length with a copious amount of lubricant, and Yifan decides he can't take it anymore, hands gripping Yixing's hips and lifting him up, lining up his entrance with the tip of his erection.

 

He helps Yixing ease down gently, the younger scrunching his face every now and then at the intrusion, but never enough to signify much pain. Yifan figures Yixing must have done a pretty good job on his own, because within two breaths Yixing is winding his hips in slow circles, driving rumbling groans out of Yifan’s chest. He then places his feet on cushions on either side of Yifan, picking himself back up until the tip of Yifan’s cock is almost visible, before dropping himself back down.

 

And then Yixing starts bouncing up and down on his own accord at a breathtaking pace, placing his hands on Yifan’s shoulders for leverage as he tosses his head back in bliss. Yifan is rendered speechless, arms loosely holding his waist, as Yixing stutters out a series of breathy _“yes, yes, oh god, yes, right there…”_

 

Yixing swivels his hips back and forth as he moves up and down, Yifan kneading at his sides and at his thighs. The noises Yixing makes are like a melodious echoing off the walls, varying from shrill keens to low groans. It makes Yifan’s all of senses heady, and he just lolls his head back into the couch and let’s Yixing ride him until his head spins.

 

Eventually, Yixing’s movements falter and he gasps heavily, trying to catch his breath, still rocking his hips back and forth. Yifan can feel a sheen of sweat underneath his fingertips, and even his own skin is started to become unbearably hot.

 

 _“Finish me,”_ Yixing pants out, eyes locked with Yifan’s, saccharine dripping off of his tongue.

 

Yifan suddenly regains all of the strength he didn't know he had and hoists Yixing up by his thighs, causing the latter to emit a surprised squeal. He flips them over, so that Yixing’s back is pressed into the couch cushions, and begins drilling into him at a relentless pace.

 

He pounds Yixing into the cushions unforgivingly, driving his hips forward with such force that the whole couch begins to rock. Yixing is so shamelessly vocal, moaning and mewling and egging Yifan to go _faster, harder, oh god, please_ until his back is arching off the cushions when he comes untouched. He helps Yifan through his own orgasm, circling his hips until the latter has fully emptied himself into the condom.

 

Breathless and satiated, Yifan pulls out of Yixing and helps him get cleaned up before collapsing back onto the couch. His muscles are aching and sore, his whole body covered in sweat, but he promptly forgets about any discomfort when Yixing curls up against his side, snuggling underneath his arm with a pleased sigh. They stay like that for a short while, and Yifan thinks that there's a good chance they're going to end up falling asleep like this, on the couch and naked, sharing in each other’s body heat. (Not that he would mind, of course.)

 

“Well, we should get working,” Yixing chirps out of nowhere, shimmying out of Yifan’s hold and standing up to stretch his arms.

 

Yifan gawks at the request.

 

“Work? ...Now?”

 

“Yeah. The perfect brownie isn't going to make itself, Yifan,” Yixing declares triumphantly, or at least, as triumphant as one can possibly be without wearing any pants.

 

Yifan wrinkles his nose. “But, we’re _naked_ , Yixing.”

 

Yixing shrugs his shoulders. “And your point is?”

 

The upturn to Yixing’s voice at the end of his statement is paired by a subtle wink, and Yifan immediately springs off the couch, clambering into the kitchen without any further complaints.

 

Yixing just follows him with a knowing chuckle.

 

\-----

 

(They end up going for three more rounds that night; one against the refrigerator door that ended with Yixing being bent over the kitchen island, once more in the shower trying to get cleaned up, and one last time between the sheets, slow and deep, where they both fell asleep afterwards, tangled in each other’s arms.)

 

\-----

 

It takes Yifan and Yixing two more weeks (and, on a tangential note, many, _many_ more changes of bed sheets) before they finally are able to solve Yixing’s perfect brownie quandary.

 

After a month’s worth of frustrations and wasted chocolate, the ultimate remedy had come one quiet night, when Yixing was watching television with Yifan’s head nestled in Yifan’s lap. Yixing had casually asked Yifan how he would summarize him as a person if he had to, and, after beating the elder repeatedly for responding with _“a baker in the streets, but a freak in the sheets”_ , Yifan had come up with the phrase _“sweet, but with an unexpected kick”._

 

And that was it. That was the key.

 

The next day, Yixing had stocked up on cinnamon and chili powder, and the two of them dedicated the rest of the night to toying with the balance between sweet and spicy.

 

Six short hours later, the perfect _Yixing brownie_ was born.

 

\-----

 

Yixing _perfect_ brownie hit _Cafe Boyfriend_ the very next morning after its creation, with a touching dedication to the baker’s loving boyfriend, much to the customers’ adoration and the workers’ shared disgust.

 

Or perhaps, amusement, judging by how much Baekhyun and Luhan are currently snickering at Yifan when he passes by the front counter. He backtracks a few steps, shooting both of them a death glare.

 

“What's so funny?” Yifan raises a suspicious eyebrow.

 

“Oh hey, Yifan!” Luhan sings innocently. Yifan’s jaw tenses. “These new brownies are great, man, tell Xing he’s really outdone himself this time.”

 

Yifan nods, still skeptical of the grin painted on Luhan’s face. Baekhyun starts giggling, hiding his mouth behind his hand so he upholds some fraction of his rapidly depleting manners.

 

“Yeah, Yifan, be sure to tell Yixing that his...oh _gosh_ , what did he name these things again?”

 

“Hmm, I have _no_ idea, Baekhyun!” Luhan pretends to tap on his chin thoughtfully. “You might have to ask Yixing about that one! Or better yet, why not have Yifan ask Yixing since he’s standing right here!”

 

The mischievous expression on both of their faces does little to put Yifan at ease, but he manages to suppress his rising panic level by clearing his throat. “You guys are weird,” is all he remarks before walking away.

 

(Weird as they might be, when Yifan looks out over the cafe and sees Taemin and Minho joking together in the far corner, or Jongdae and Tao mixing beverages behind the counter and pushing them out like clockwork, or Jongin giving Kyungsoo a swift peck on the forehead as he goes to deliver a drink to another table, he finds himself oddly satisfied with the way everything has turned out. He glances over at where Baekhyun and Luhan are situated at the counter, with Sehun furtively playing with Luhan’s fingers and Chanyeol leaning a little too close to Baekhyun for it to be considered friendly, and makes a mental note to thank them soon for coming up with this outlandish idea in the first place. After all, it saved Yifan’s business.)

 

(And, more importantly, introduced him to Yixing.)

 

\-----

 

(The last statement implying that Yixing was a good introduction to Yifan’s life should be amended.)

 

Yifan stares at the white placard placed in front of the tray of brownies in the bakery display with unbelieving eyes before shooting Yixing an incredulous look.

 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

 

Yixing, feigning ignorance, tilts his head to the side (cutely) and frowns. Yifan knows better than to fall for Yixing’s facade by now. He rubs his temples with a heavy sigh.

 

“You named your brownie _“兴的高超布朗尼”.”_

 

“Yes.”

 

_“...Xing de gaochao brownie?”_

 

“Yes,” Yixing asserts, batting his eyes oh-so-innocently. “ “Xing’s Superb Brownie”. What’s so wrong with that?”

 

Yifan’s eye twitches.

 

_“...Xing de gaochao.”_

 

“Yes.”

 

“...And you've been telling everyone that _I’m_ the inspiration for this brownie?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

Yifan places the palm of his hand on his forehead and drags it down the plane of his face.

 

“...For Christ’s sake, Yixing, you might as well just have straight up called it an org-”

 

“YIFAN!” Yixing scolds, slapping his shoulder. “There are _children_ here. Please be considerate and watch your language.”

 

Yifan opens his mouth to retort, but just ends up shutting it and letting out a defeated sigh.

 

“Zhang Yixing, you’re going to be the death of me one day.”

 

“How so?”

 

“...Either from pulling stuff like this, giving me heart disease with all the sugar you feed me against my will on a regular basis,” Yifan lists, sticking up a finger for each point. “Or, you know, I could totally end up like that guy who died after orgasming fifty-something ti-”

 

Yixing just shuts him up by stuffing a brownie into his mouth, and Yifan gags a little bit at the spiciness before having enough sense to start chewing. He glares at his boyfriend pointedly.

 

Yixing only beams at him before starting to saunter away.

 

“While the third sounds pretty enticing, if we’re going to be honest, it's probably going to be the second. Not that I’d think you’d mind, though. And even if you did, what can I say? I like being the exception.”

 

_\--fin--_

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: now I'm hungry, jesus
> 
> — “兴的高超布朗尼” ; “xing de gao chao bu lang ni” -- in this case, it should literally read “Xing’s (as in Yixing’s) Superb Brownies”. however, there's a play on words here, with the implied aural hearing of “xing gao chao” (性高潮), which means orgasm. (yifan was truly an inspiration.)


End file.
